Saturday, May 19, 2012

And Then There Was Me

I lay in my bed in the recovery room staring in dismay at my feet.  "Mind over matter," I thought.  They still wouldn't budge.  When I decided that my brain couldn't over ride my epidural I glazed over, peering at the foot at the bed.  No one.  I could hear faint voices of what I reasoned was recovery room nurses, but other than that and for the first time in nine months, I was utterly alone.  That stark realization struck me in the face. 

My mind drifted to the minutes after Carli, my first daughter, was born.  I had my husband by my side and a flutter of nurses crowding around me, offering congratulations and cooing over my newborn baby.  I thought of the glowing love I had for Carli the second I laid eyes on her.  As I gazed down at my precious child I remember the feeling like I could never let her go. I kissed her sweet head and nuzzled my little girl. Sheer bliss.

I felt a little jealous about being down the basement of the hospital with no windows while Brett and Kayla held Alex in her first minutes. As I lay in silence, they had the attention of the maternity floor, my family, their family and her. It is such a bummer to feel like you are missing your own party.

I came around to my feet again.  They were my only company.  Eventually a nurse came by and took my vital signs, asked how I felt and offered me pain medication.  I readily accepted.  I wasn't in much pain but I wanted to be a little zoned out for when I went upstairs. I didn't mind something taking the edge off of the emotions.  I swallowed and waited for the comfort of sedation.  I could go upstairs when I could move my feet.  I focused and tried for almost 45 minutes until they agreed to do what I said. 

At last an orderly came to take me upstairs.  I was free of this prison of solitude and I could again join in on the celebration.  I wanted to see her.  I only got a glimpse of her in the OR.  Would she look like Carli?  Me?  Did my mom get to hold her yet?  I thought of more questions while the anxiety of seeing everyone rose into my chest with every ding on the elevator.

I was backed into a large maternity room with a familiar buzz of excitement.  I was now a little sleepy from the pills and the tiredness of an operation.  With everything going on, it was easy to forget that I just had surgery.  My daughter, Carli, met my bedside to see her groggy mom attached to wires and tubes. She started crying.  As she went on she started to panic.  She needed to know that I was okay.  She ran around the bed, back and forth, trying to get to me as I tried to scold her over the noise of everyone in the room, "Carli don't pull that!"  In my exasperation over trying to both protect myself from further injury and fruitless in attempting to soothe my toddler, I yelled out to my mother. "What is she doing here!?"  We had agreed not to bring her to the hospital this day.  I knew this would be confusing for her and she was to leave her with my friend, Angel.  My mother gave an explanation but I think she needed Carli there to help her get through this.  I had to give her that much. This was hard.  I relented and calmed down to explain to Carli to be careful with Mama.  We brought her attention back to the baby, which she wanted little to do with.  Her concerns were for me.  I pained that she had to suffer because of me. 

So powerful to realize that a bad decision made in private can become not only so public but have the ability to hurt a multitude people.  Sin never happens in a vacuum.  After a calm came over the room, I looked over to the corner side of the room to see Brett calmly holding a sweet, sleeping baby dressed in a cute 'yellow duckie' sleeper while his wife quietly smiled and looked on.  A slice of Heaven fell on two wonderful people.  God can do amazing things with sin that is given to Him to make beautiful. 

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